Reigning Liars
by Feyren
Summary: Trapped in a world where people lie, cheat, and steal, Yagyuu Hiroshi finds that the only way to survive the Liar Game Tournament is to do the exact same thing. D1


A gift for **mesmerizedbyceruleaneyes. **I wouldn't have read The Liar Game manga if you hadn't requested this, so thanks, haha. It's totally awesome. (The manga, not the story.)

So, this takes place in the Liar Game universe. For those of you who haven't read the manga/watched the drama, I seriously recommend it. (Honestly, the whole concept of the Liar Game is pretty hard to grasp, unless you actually read it—and it's really interesting, even if the art is kind of weird. Really, _really _interesting.)

Basically, there's this organization hosting a tournament called the Liar Game Tournament. Imagine it as a tennis tournament; you have the first rounds, to weed off the weaker players, and as you progress, the competition gets harder, and the stakes are raised. In the end, I assume there are two players, facing off—with more at stake. The aim of the game is essentially to lie and con your opponent out of his or her money. The winner is enormously wealthy (but also has to continue entering the tournament), but the loser is enormously in debt, and eliminated from the tournament. It's pretty complicated, and if I were to explain the whole thing, I'd probably take up this entire page, so I'm going to simplify it.

The rounds are always different (I think). For instance, in this one round (the first round), you have two players. Each player is awarded 100 million yen, and they're told that they have one month to get the other player's 100 million yen. Essentially, you use psychological warfare (or whatever else means you see necessary) to get that 100 million yen, and keep the opponent from stealing it back. At the end of the game, you have to return the 100 million yen to the Liar Game organization. But the winner is going to have 200 million yen, because of the initial amount he received, and the 100 million he stole—and the loser will have nothing. The winner gets to keep his profit, and he'll be 100 million richer. But the loser, who lost his 100 million yen, won't have any money to return to the organization. He'll be 100 million in debt. The debts increase as the rounds go on; unless you can pay off your debt, and give up half of your winnings to drop out, you have to keep participating in the game and increasing your debt.

It seems pretty simple, but the games get more complicated as the story goes on. Most of the rounds have, like, anywhere from eight to twenty people. Sometimes, the Liar Game organization will organize the people into groups, and you'll have two opposing groups. Other times, the people will organize _themselves _into groups; they'll aim to help one person in the group win (like, a majority wins game), and that winner will split the profits with the other people in the group. In the end, it's all about the allies. It's kind of like cheating without actually breaking the rules, if that makes any sense.

The rounds are pretty complicated, so in this story, I'm probably going to take one full chapter to demonstrate the round (a simulation game, as they call it), and you, as the reader, can ask me any questions about the round, if you don't get what's going on (which happens to me a _lot _when I'm reading Liar Game). :) As for this chapter—I'm going to use the game they use in the first round in the Liar Game manga—so if you don't get it, you can check out the manga. But I'm going to do my best to think up my own games after this round, haha.

But I definitely recommend reading The Liar Game! It's really, really good, I promise. Very interesting.

And without further ado, here is my attempt at a Liar Game universe fic!

**

* * *

**

At twenty-two years old, Oshitari Yuushi was, by no means, poverty-stricken.

Quite the opposite—he was a wealthy socialite, known for his elaborate, popular parties. He performed at concerts in his free time, and his tickets could cost as much as twenty-thousand yen per person. And every seat was sure to be sold out by the end of the week.

To be honest, Yuushi did whatever struck his fancy. He acted on a whim—but because his father was a prominent figure in the government and the protection agency, Yuushi was given the opportunity to work as a criminal investigator—simply put, a detective.

He really didn't have to work. His parents didn't even want him to work. But what else was he going to do? Party all day?

Not that he didn't do that anyway. He was just very good at multi-tasking.

It was another day, another party. The lights were dim, and, as always, the room was spacious. Music pounded from the many stereos in the maisonette, and people danced, danced, danced. Yuushi watched, smirking faintly, as two girls huddled in a corner, casting lustful glances at him and whispering to each other. _They can't possibly be over sixteen, _Yuushi thought dryly. _Oh, darlings, I'm out of your league. _

It amused him to know that there were women of all ages and social standings lusting after him, though. Always flattering. And he did so love to indulge them. Not a playboy, mind you.

He smiled charmingly at the two girls, who burst into a fit of giggles. _So easy, _he thought. _Much, much too easy._

It would be nice to have a challenge. Stereotypical rich boy that he was.

A love interest, perhaps? Someone who didn't just look away demurely and bat her eyelashes. Someone he could chase. He did love hunting very, very much.

So when his butler delivered him a little black postcard, telling him he'd been given one hundred million yen and invited to participate in the Liar Game Tournament—he couldn't help but smile.

A challenge. He would win.

Yuushi _always _got what he wanted.

This would be no exception.

**

* * *

**

Despite what his family was like, Mukahi Gakuto was a fighter.

As a youth, he'd been delicate, shy, fluttery—a little flower.

It didn't take him long to realize that being dainty was not going to work for him. So he traded his delicateness for brashness, shyness for boldness, daintiness for sheer, hard will.

It was what set him apart from his family members, really. His father, a compulsive gambler. His mother, unfaithful and slothful. An older sister, who married the first man who'd have her. A younger brother, who'd tried to run away from home at least five times, now. But at least the last two had a future. Whether or not they tried to use it, of course . . .

But Gakuto didn't just take whatever life had to offer. If fate was unkind to him, then he'd make life work _for _him.

He was talented, unsurprisingly. He had a knack for sports, a lithe build, and was a naturally good dancer. So, at age twenty-two, he worked to pay off his father's (many, many) debts, as a dance instructor and a sports coach—all the while balancing his psychology major in college. Psychology was intriguing enough to hold his interest, and it'd be a well-paying career. That, honestly, was most of the appeal.

But despite all his good traits—he was still reckless, ignorant—and had a tendency to act before he thought.

Which was how he found himself ripping open a box with one hundred million yen in it, without a second thought.

_Thank you for participating in the Liar Game! By breaking the seal on the box, you have formally acknowledged your desire to play the Liar Game. _

_You can no longer withdraw your entry._

_The enclosed 100 million yen is to be your money for the Liar Game. Please take good care of it. _

His first thought was: Oh, fuck.

Gakuto paled as he read the rules for the game. If he understood this correctly . . .

He had two options. Only two options.

He'd either be one hundred million richer—

—or one hundred million in debt.

**

* * *

**

Tezuka Kunimitsu was a no nonsense type of person.

His grandfather was a well known police officer and extremely talented at taekwondo. And naturally, Tezuka had gone into the police force as well. It was easy enough to rise in ranks; Tezuka was studious and hard working, and with his heritage, people weren't apt to take him lightly.

He had a respectable girlfriend, a respectable career, a respectable family, and a respectable reputation. Life would seem perfect—

—but dangerous.

He'd recently been given a new assignment—by the head of the Japanese intelligence agency. He knew he'd have to do it eventually, but it wasn't something he was looking forward to. They were rather murky waters, after all. Still, if it was the Japanese government requesting it, he couldn't really deny them.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

So he received the packet with a grimace on his face. A large, suspicious looking brown package. The intelligence agents had warned him that he'd receive something of the such, and an invitation to a tournament by the Liar Game officials.

Some program—some tournament, conning people out of their money, leaving one winner, fantastically rich—and ninety-nine thousand others, millions in debt.

The intelligence agency had assured that in the case that he lost, his debt would be paid. His ultimate goal was to win the tournament, of course—and uncover the mystery behind the Liar Game Organization in the process.

While Tezuka had no doubts in his abilities—after all, the son of a police officer and one of the leaders of the entire police force was to be expected to be cunning—he did wonder how one person could possibly uncover an organization that'd so cleverly hidden from the public.

He read the black postcard with some disdain. "You've been invited," he murmured to himself, and put it away.

It wasn't something he wanted to participate in, this tournament—

(And to think, the postcard made it sound like such an honor!)

—but there were responsibilities.

He'd serve loyally until the end, even if it meant diving off the edge of a cliff.

But really, diving off a cliff and participating in this tournament—what was the difference?

**

* * *

**

Fuji Syusuke was more than he seemed.

A sweet, charming, always smiling optometrist—handsome and princely, with all the girls falling at his feet. A weak frame, delicate and flowery. Someone who looked like he'd be blown away by the tiniest of zephyrs.

He loved being underestimated.

It was only too easy to act fearful, fragile, frightened, and flustered; Fuji was afraid of nothing.

He wasn't, by nature, sadistic or cruel. People knew him to be gentle and kind, the type of person to volunteer at homeless shelters and donate to charity. Which he did. He was wealthy, handsome—but, personality-wise, average.

He was also a genius strategist.

"Hi, Syusuke," a girl cooed. Fuji smiled obligingly at her and gave a bow—the girls twittered.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," he said. "Might I have the honor of assisting you ladies today?"

The first girl walked up to him and held up her eyeglasses. "I was wondering if I could get these in a new fashion," she explained. "Any recommendations?"

Fuji put on his best disappointed look and said, "Are the ones I recommended last month unsatisfactory?"

The girl's eyes widened and she immediately began stammering protests, something about wanting to try something new and go for a new image. Fuji smiled inwardly; while being an optometrist and designer wasn't where he'd imagined he'd go in life, it did have its moments. "I'm just teasing," he laughed, and gestured for the two girls to follow him. "We have some new models that are sure to satisfy your tastes, my dear."

The two girls blushed and trailed after him, whispering excitedly. "Ne, Syusuke," the second girl commented, "why do you never show your eyes? They're so striking."

"They're unworthy of your beauty," Fuji replied smoothly, and pulled out a briefcase. "Frameless glasses are very popular these days; and they wouldn't hinder the allure of your eyes, love." He set the frameless glasses on her face and tilted her chin upward. "You're beautiful."

The girl looked like she'd faint from pure happiness, and Fuji smiled enticingly. "Would you like a mirror?" he inquired.

"No; if you approve, Syusuke, then I'll buy them," she stuttered, and hurried off to pay.

"Wait!" he called. "You need to get the proper prescription, first."

But the girl was already out the door. Fuji chuckled to himself and sat in his swivel chair. She'd come running back once she realized her mistake—no point in chasing after her.

"Um, Fuji-san?"

Fuji looked up. "Ah, Hana-san," he greeted.

His secretary looked mildly worried; she was carrying an enormous package, and looked like she'd collapse under the weight at any second. Fuji stood up to help her, and she set the package on his desk. "It came in a while ago," Hana explained. She backed out of his office and excused herself.

Fuji stared at the box in contemplation. It'd probably be a wise idea to leave such a suspicious package to the police.

But where was the fun in that?

Life was a game, after all.

He opened it carefully and deliberately, his smile growing as he read the small black card.

One hundred million yen, eh?

It wasn't hard to interpret the directions. He'd be participating in a game, in which he had to con the other player out of his—or her—money. The loser would owe one hundred million, and the winner would gain one hundred million.

_You may use any means necessary. Please seize your opponent's money. Since this is a game of mutual consent, you will not be accused of being a criminal for taking your opponent's money, so rest assured._

That was all he needed to hear.

Steal one hundred million?

Too easy.

Much, much too easy.

**

* * *

**

Atobe Keigo had everything.

He was young, rich, handsome, powerful, charming, witty, intelligent, confident—every virtue that existed.

Every cliché in the world could be applied to him. His life _was _a cliché. A father who didn't love him enough, a mother who cared more about her career. A childhood of drowning his sorrows into work, friendless, loveless, intuitive, knowing people liked him for his wealth, the poor little rich boy—

But he didn't mind.

In fact, he loved it.

After all, his sad, sad background did wonders when it came to charming the women. Pile on the angst, and girls came flocking to him—not that they didn't come flocking to him, anyway.

"Keigo-kun," a lady crooned. "Why are you spacing out like that?"

"Thinking about the company," Atobe replied. "It's unfortunate—once I inherit the company, I won't have time to see you anymore." He put on his most forlorn expression and looked into the horizon, while the young woman watched with lovestruck eyes.

It was partially true, anyway. Taking over the company meant saying goodbye to social butterfly life. Parties would only be for the sake of writing up business contracts and contacting possible allies. Champagne would purely be for dinner parties.

Twenty-two years old, and he was to take over a company. Twenty-two years old, and he'd have to say goodbye to any hope of making a family—unless he were to have an arranged marriage, which he imagined would only be torturous on both sides.

He'd seen the way his parents acted, after all.

Maybe it was his romantic side, but he didn't want a family like that. Still, no siblings—no family at all. What a lonely life he was resigning himself to.

And what a boring one, at that.

The butler walked in, and bowed. "Keigo-sama." Two men walked in, carrying an enormous package. Atobe raised one eyebrow.

"What's this?" he asked slowly. "A package for me?"

The lady sitting with him looked confused as he told her to leave, but did as he said. The package looked rather suspicious—why would anyone address such a thing to him?

His intuition told him that it'd be a bad idea to open the package, but his ego told him otherwise.

Why not?

He didn't have much else to do.

And so, it was to some degree of confusion and amusement that he found a small black card resting on top one hundred million yen.

"The Liar Game Tournament," he said to himself. "A chance to win money, get rich quick—what do they take me for?"

He wasn't exactly sure who "they" were, but they were fools if they thought they could entice him with money. Money was the one thing he couldn't get rid of. He didn't need any more of it.

(Honestly, he wouldn't mind losing some of it.)

The way he predicted it, at worst, he'd lose a few billion yen.

One last chance to have some fun before he took over the company—and it wasn't like paying off such a debt would so much as dent his bank account.

The card said he's have to con his opponent out of one hundred million—which was no difficult feat. He'd always been intuitive, after all; his insight alone ought to make the entire tournament easy. No consequences if he lost—and not much to gain if he won, either. It was something to do. There was no pressure.

But it was a game.

And games meant winning.

He did rather like winning.

**

* * *

**

Akutagawa Jirou wasn't easily deterrable.

He was a handsome, cheerful boy of twenty-two, even though he looked more like he was seventeen. Born to nothing, given nothing—no outstanding talents or smarts, nothing spectacular. Perfectly average. Only that his hair was a beautiful reddish-gold, and his eyes a pretty amber.

Still, there wasn't much he could do with his looks. Many a person had suggested modeling or something of the sort, but in a world like his, one couldn't get anywhere without connections.

So he pushed through college, majoring in design, if only to accompany his best friend, Mukahi Gakuto.

His family was always just skirting the poverty line, but he was either unaware of it or didn't care. His cheery attitude kept him afloat, at least for now. Hardworking, persistent, loyal—and oblivious. He was completely content.

There was only one problem.

In school, in college, he was safe (at least with Gakuto's protection). In the real world, all by himself—he'd get eaten alive.

So he made it his life's goal to stay with Gakuto. If not for his own protection, then for company; Jirou wasn't Jirou without someone to talk to, and it'd be awfully hard to keep up his happy-go-lucky persona without his best friend.

Besides, Gakuto needed him, too, reckless that he was.

Which was probably why Jirou was the only one who believed him when Gakuto started rambling about being caught in the Liar Game.

The fact that Jirou received an identical package later certainly helped Gakuto's cause.

"Don't open it, if you get it," Gakuto warned. "There's no way out."

Jirou stared at the giant brown package, contemplative. He'd received it earlier that morning, and he'd known better than to open it—it sat in his room ominously.

Knowing what was in it certainly gave him advantage. He could probably just give this to the police—or toss it in a volcano.

But that would mean leaving Gakuto to fend for himself in this twisted, convoluted game.

Jirou set his lips in a firm line. Gakuto might have been intelligent, and he might have been a psychology major—but he was much to reckless. He'd need somebody with a clear head to help him.

Surely the game would be filled with spectacular, gifted, special people. Having someone average would help, right?

He couldn't let his friend do this alone.

So he took a deep breath and ripped open the package.

**

* * *

**

Niou Masaharu was a man of many talents.

What he chose to use them for, however . . .

"Do you have any _fresh carrots_?"

Niou grinned a slow, menacing grin. "Are you sure you want fresh carrots? It's taking a gamble."

The man knew better than to argue with Niou. "I'm sure," he said respectfully, and Niou shrugged.

He pulled from beneath his counter a small vial filled with black liquid and capped it. He took a carrot, cut a small slot into it, then stuffed the vial inside and handed it to him. "What're you trying to make, anyway?" he asked curiously, and leaned forward.

"_Carrot cake_," the man replied. He hesitated. "For my wife," he clarified.

Niou whistled. "Some cheating whore she must be," he snorted.

"Actually, she's . . . working as a _reporter. _For a rival company. The _article _they're working on could close down my entire operation."

"I see, I see." Niou nodded approvingly. "I like the way you work."

The man practically flushed with pride, being praised by Niou, and stammered a word of thanks before backing out of Niou's shop.

He practically cackled when the man left. That was some up-and-coming murder case; he'd have to pay careful attention to it, and see if any of it could be traced back to him. It wasn't like it would be his fault, anyway—he was the supplier, not the killer.

As a child, he'd always known he'd grow up to be a man of power. His mother had done tarot card readings, and whatnot—she insisted that he'd become wealthy and powerful, and Niou readily believed her.

And here he was.

Feared by many, respected by all, best friends with the kumichou of Japan's biggest and most powerful yakuza family. He was both a socialite, with celebrity friends and—well, this. And he had his own business, to boot. The perfect double life.

Underground trading and whatnot really turned out to be his forte—he was always good at reading people, after all. He was the best at keeping up an act; the police never suspected him for a second.

More importantly, it was fun.

"Sir?"

Niou looked up, and saw someone struggling with a huge package. "Yes?"

"I was told by some guy in a black suit to give this to you," the young man explained, and dumped the giant brown box on Niou's counter before scampering off.

Niou arched an eyebrow. The kid either didn't know who he was, or wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He eyed the package with some degree of interest, knocking on the box's surface a few times.

Then, satisfied, he leaned back and murmured, "It's about time."

And ripped open the package.

**

* * *

**

Yagyuu Hiroshi was nothing more than a dedicated college student.

He was working steadily toward his goal of medical school, becoming a surgeon and diagnostician. At twenty-two, he had his life planned out unwaveringly—and everyone who knew him was sure that life, for Yagyuu, would go exactly the way he planned.

He was steadfast, a hard worker, intelligent, handsome—everything going for him, really. His father was a well-known doctor, and Yagyuu was sure to follow in his footsteps. He didn't have to deal with the troubles of poverty, nor with the troubles of wealth; middle class, but with spectacular potential.

A perfect gentleman.

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

As he'd later recall—_way to jinx it._

It was with some bemusement and suspicion that he found a large brown package in his room. It'd be risky to open it, but it'd also be risky to leave it sitting in his room. What if it was a bomb, poison gas, or something of the sort, programmed to be set off after a certain time period? It'd make more sense to open the package and find out what it was, before preparing a plan of action in defense.

So he took a penknife and carefully slit open the box.

His glasses glinted. No bomb, no weapons, no suspicious looking powders.

No, only one hundred million yen.

It really didn't take a scholar to conclude that this was bad.

His eyes scanned the black postcard quickly, and he set it down after a moment. A game. It was pointless to try to find some way out of it, from what he saw. There was nothing to do but to participate, and hope to drop out of the game at some point.

But dropping out was only an option if he won.

He tensed. This was the _Liar _Game, after all. He could retain a stoic expression, with some effort—but he wasn't very good at acting, nor at lying or tricking others. Gentlemen didn't lie, after all, and he'd been brought up as one.

He had too much to lose. His family was well-off, but they weren't rich. One hundred million yen would leave them with a serious debt—and who knew how much the stakes would be raised, later in the games? It could rise to one hundred billion yen, for all he knew; and if he had no way of paying off the debt, what would they do to him?

His expression chilled at the thought of his parents working multiple jobs, slaving to help him, at the thought of himself, getting involved—sold, even—in the black market.

His parents would undoubtedly try to help him, would undoubtedly risk slave labor to help him. His parents, who had worked hard to reach such stability, who worked hard everyday to live such a content, peaceful life.

Whereas he himself was still in college, yet to do anything.

Yagyuu thought for a moment. At worst, if he lost, he could leave a note to his parents, telling them he was going to study abroad for an indefinite period of time, and let the Liar Game officials take him away. His parents would remain in the dark about his predicament, and wouldn't have any need to worry.

He shook his head. This wasn't the time to be thinking negatively.

At this point, there was nothing to do except participate.


End file.
